


It's a Long Long Way (Coming Home From Ba Sing Se)

by Ito (itonomen)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Zuko (Avatar), Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fictional politics, Fluff and Angst, He don't put up with his youngest son's bs, How could he not be, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) is the Best Dad, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Iroh adopts Zuko, Li and Lo are good surragate grandmas, Ozai is a dick, Protective Iroh (Avatar), Wise and Cynical Fire lord Azulon, Zuko is Azulon's fave grandbaby, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, assasins and assasination attempts, azula is a brat, eventually, if a bit creepy, kind of, lu ten is still dead, no beta we die like men, sorry - Freeform, take a shot every time i talk about Lu ten's urn, turtle ducks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itonomen/pseuds/Ito
Summary: There, clutching at the end of his tunic with a tiny, sunburnt fist and a nervous look on his face was his nine year old nephew, Zuko.His nine year old nephew who, if the scan he took of their surroundings were accurate, was completely unsupervised in a crowded open air market and military dock with no bodyguards or family members anywhere in sight.“Zuko,” Iroh breathed, only one thought able to reach his tongue, “what are you doing here?”Or, Fire Lord Azulon Decides that Ozai's Punishment for openly attempting to usurp his older brother right after the death of his only son should be decided by Iroh himself when he returns from Ba Sing Se. meanwhile, Zuko just wants his uncle to feel better and for adults to stop being so confusing.
Relationships: Azulon & Iroh (Avatar), Azulon & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Lu Ten, Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Lu Ten & Zuko, Ozai & consequences, Zuko & Turtleducks
Comments: 130
Kudos: 913





	1. why is this child unsupervised?

**Author's Note:**

> Iroh considered himself a man with a justified reputation of being calm, strategic, and methodical. It was a reputation he had worked hard to earn and it had served well in putting a great deal of fear and caution in the hearts of his enemies. 
> 
> However if Iroh had to spend another moment on this spirits damned ship he considered that he might have to throw away his reputation entirely in favor of setting screaming his head off and setting the boat on fire

Iroh considered himself a man who was slow to anger. Anger clouds the senses and puts a brittle cage over reason, and without reason, there cannot be strategy. In war, strategy was just as deadly as the sharpest sword, or the hottest flame. To win a war requires the careful consideration of every move, the actions of the opponent must be considered within moments.  
In this way, war was very much like a long game of Pai Sho. 

Iroh considered himself a man with a justified reputation of being calm, strategic, and methodical. It was a reputation he had worked hard to earn and it had served well in putting a great deal of fear and caution in the hearts of his enemies. 

However if Iroh had to spend another moment on this spirits damned ship he considered that he might have to throw away his reputation entirely in favor of setting screaming his head off and setting the boat on fire.

The crew had eaten all of the good food only a few days into their journey, so all that was left were bland rations, there was not even any leaves for tea! No less than three storms had they had to weather through. Everything was damp, slightly stiff and crusted from the sea salt, but the sun shone bright and hot overhead, making for a whole new level of discomfort when combined with everything else.

To top it all off, everyone was feeling sour from the week and a half spent in close quarters. On a map the world never seemed more small, but here on this ship, and most likely on the rest of the fleet that trailed behind Iroh’s lead boat, it could not be more agonizingly massive as the miles inched by at a snail’s pace.

Here on the deck, the rocking of the boat no longer bothered Iroh, it hadn’t for years, but there were several young men who even now were often prone to throwing themselves over the railing of the deck in order to relieve their nausea. (on any other occasion, this would have brought the older veterans, Iroh included, no small amount amusement)

In short, everyone was hungry, stiff, tired, and more than a little sick of the sea. 

And of course, Lu Ten was dead. 

Nothing was more sobering than a parent having to lay their child to rest, and nothing could tempt a sober man to drink like seeing the crushed remains of his son.

Oh, and drink Iroh had sorely wanted to do. When he was finally alone in the privacy of his chambers within the palace of the Fire Nation capital, he still might. But before he could allow the craving of a good stiff drink burning at the back of his throat to overtake him, Iroh needed to see his men home. So many good men had been lost, Iroh’s own son included, and before he tended to the hollow ache in his chest, he had to make sure that these weary, wounded men and women who had managed to find the courage and will to live though the siege on Ba Sing Se made it to the safety of their loved ones arms. 

An elbow jabbed at his side as another young man made a dash for the railing, drawing Iroh from his thoughts and he had to bite his tongue to keep a growl from rising in his throat. 

Thoughts of arson aside, his crew is a good bunch, obedient and trusting in their general with just enough sass to keep things interesting on a slow day, and they hardly deserve his wrath. The black ache in his heart was Iroh’s burden to bear and his alone, and he did not wish to add anymore misery to this ship.

After all, many of these good young soldiers were friends with Lu Ten, bonded together by war, and grieving just the same as Iroh himself, if they are not grieving many other friends and family members of their own as well. 

One of the green-in-the-face soldiers clinging to the railing for dear life groaned in despair and looked wearily onto the horizon through squinting lids. A moment passed, and then another, and then as if the spirits had breathed new life and vigor into her body she sprang up and shouted loud enough for everyone carrying out their duties on deck to pause as they registered her words. 

“Hey look! We’re home!” 

Sea sickness all but forgotten, the girl jumped up high and sparks flared at her fingertips in her excitement. 

“I can’t believe it, we’re really home! Seriously, guys, come look! You can see Capital Island right there on the horizon I swear!”

There was a single pause, And then, from the crows nest, the lookout straightens up from his lazy slump and declares in surprise;

“Holy shit she’s right! Land ho! We’re home!”

The crowd of tired men and women morphs into a single excited roar. They all knew they would be arriving in Fire Nation sometime today, but it was three hours past midday and everyone had been waiting for a sign of home since the early hours of morning.

Before Iroh can get his bearings, he is shoved to the opposite side of the deck as everyone clambers over each other in desperate hopes to see for themselves the blessed sight of that single speck of color against the monotonous grey-blue of the sea. The roar grows louder. Iroh is certainly not pleased to have been trampled by his over eager subordinates but he decides to allow them these few moments of joy and hope. After so much suffering, he thinks with a pang, they could all surely do with a little more happiness. And what was more happy than the sight of home after so much time spent at war in a foreign land? 

‘The sight of family after so much time spent away from home for the sake of a violent war’  
The thought comes to Iroh unbidden and he sighs. There is no time for tearful reunions in a public space for the royal family, and Iroh knows he will not have anyone to hug tearfully on the salty dock of Capital City like the majority of his men. Only a quiet carriage ride to the palace with none but a resolutely silent driver for company.

But he arrives home, and Iroh feels himself relax just a bit at the thought, there his family will be waiting for him at the imperial palace, where there will good tea, and soft words from dear Ursa, and firm support from his father as he goes through the motions of laying his son to rest and grieving for him properly, and perhaps even his brother, Ozai, will lower his frigid walls long enough for Iroh to connect with him in this time of grief. 

And of course his beloved niece and nephew will be there too.

Especially little Zuko. He recalls with disappointment that as of two months ago he had missed his little nephew’s ninth birthday, and knows that neither of them will feel like making up for the lost celebration any time soon. (Iroh knows he will try anyways)

If there was anyone who adored Lu Ten as much as Iroh had, it would have been Zuko, who had spent every moment he could spare since the moment he had learned how to walk trailing after his older cousin with worship in his eyes and so much love in his tiny little body. Zuko was so loving it was ridiculous, and Lu Ten had returned that love tenfold. This would be Zuko's first experience with a loved one’s death, and Iroh pitied Ursa for having to be the woman to break that poor boy’s heart with the news that his surrogate big brother would not be coming home. 

As Iroh gathers his composure and barks orders to the crew to ready the ship for their arrival to the docks he cannot help but continue fantasizing about his return to his family, even as he moves through the slightly chilled inner halls of the ship to gather his things from his chamber, a separate room from the crew’s quarters and filled with scrolls on Earth Kingdom culture and battle strategies, and his traveler’s pai sho board. (And of course, gifts he gathered during the course of his campaign that he had saved for his family. He might have sent a few things ahead already, but he desired to do some more gift giving in person)

For just a moment, even grasping the clay urn containing the remains of his only son does not send him stumbling face first into a dark, grey headspace. 

Just this once, the promise of home and tea and family was enough to spread a soft candle’s glow throughout his body, banishing the dark shadow that threatened to consume him whenever he thought of the reason that he was here on this ship returning home instead back in the Earth Kingdom, just outside the walls of Ba Sing Se, continuing on in his relentless pursuit of concurring the impenetrable city. Soon,however, he would be home and just perhaps this war would be over as well. He could only have hope.

Iroh gathered all of his possessions and slung them onto his back in a large sailor's bag before tucking Lu Ten’s urn safely in his arms. Many generals were known to travel as though they were royalty in their own right when away at war, but Iroh had alway found that traveling light aided in keeping the mind clear. Physical clutter often finds its way into the mind, after all.

As Iroh stepped back out onto the deck he observed with a whisper of amusement that young soldiers always seemed to perform their best when the adventure had just begun, or when it was almost over.

The ship was almost at the docks now. A large crowd awaited them.

The Capital City Military Docks were, contrary to the name, not used solely for the purpose of harboring navy ships. The Capital city docks were actually located next to a large open air market, used primarily for fishermen who liked to be able take their catch straight to said market as the freshest fish went for the best prices. The whole area was flooded with the scent of strong spices and fresh goods. The wooden boards of the dock creaked under the weight of hundreds of thunderous footsteps. 

Not long after the Iroh’s crew had spotted Capitol Island, the people of Capitol Island had spotted them back, and word had spread fast that General Iroh’s navy fleet was heading to port after so many months away from the Fire Nation, and the death of a beloved member of the royal family. 

People were crowded on that salty dock roaring with anticipation, sadness, relief. The whole market was a thunderous mesh of turbulent emotions as the war ships edged closer and closer to the docks. 

Many more families were eager to see their children, husbands, wives, and dear friends step off of one of those looming metal ships and hold them safe in each other's embraces, or spot at least one familiar face however bruised and battered so that they might not have to mourn losses of their own alone. 

The moment the gangplank hit the boardwalk Iroh’s crew was scrambling for the dock. Normally, the return of such a high profile general would call for more ceremony and order, but Iroh’s desperation to get to dry land had cooled some, and the last thing Iroh really wanted at the moment was for so much attention to be on him while he was too busy nursing the ache in his chest to keep up a royal composure that would be fitting any of said ceremony. For the moment, Iroh was content to let his men scrambling off of the ship to search for their loved ones in the crowd while he waited towards the back of the deck for the boat to empty.

After all, it wasn’t as if Iroh had any cause to hurry. There was no one waiting on these docks for him. Everyone he wanted to see was sitting idly at the center of the city, doing paperwork or attending to their respective duties under the accurate assumption that Iroh would come to them. It did not suit the royal image to be wondering about amongst commoners after all, even for family. 

Once the hoard of soldiers scrambling for the gangplank had mostly dispersed Iroh finally readjusted his hold on his pack and made his way off the ship with a respectful nod to the captain and the remnants of the crew who were clearing out the ship of cargo and tending to the boat. 

Iroh took in the chaos that was taking place on the docks, the shifting, swarming mass of emotional reunions and he sighed. Iroh began to carefully pick his way through the crowd, doing his best to avoid getting pushed and jostled as he made his way towards the other side of the market, where there would be carriages for rent that he could take to the palace. 

Despite Iroh’s best efforts, it was, of course, not entirely possible to avoid the occasional elbow in his side or clash of another’s pack against his shoulder and so he did not think anything of it when he felt something snag on the end of his tunic. 

At least, not until a small voice had him freezing in place. 

“Uncle?”

Iroh felt his heart stutter. 

He went still. 

Slowly, he turned his head and looked down. 

There, clutching at the end of his tunic with a tiny, sunburnt fist and a nervous look on his face was his nine year old nephew, Zuko. 

His nine year old nephew who, if the scan he took of their surroundings were accurate, was completely unsupervised in a crowded open air market and military dock with no bodyguards or family members anywhere in sight. 

“Zuko,” Iroh breathed, only one thought able to reach his tongue, “what are you doing here?” 

His nephew looked tired as he shifted nervously under his uncle’s shocked stare. There were bags under his eyes, and he looked thinner than Iroh remembered. His skin was bright pink with sunburns. Save for the topknot, which looked out of place with his plain brown and red tunic and loose pants, Zuko looked the furthest thing from royalty. 

“I-I heard you were coming home today. I wanted to see you.” The small boy mumbles, leaning a little of his miniscule weight into Iroh’s side. 

Iroh took a deep breath, taking a second to regain a firm hold of emotions as he sorted through his priorities. Losing his composure would only scare Zuko, and that would accomplish nothing. He forced his now racing heart to calm as best as he could. Important matters first, Iroh. 

Firstly-

“Are you alone, nephew?” 

Zuko seemed to shrink in on himself. He nodded slowly. 

“Yeah. Azula didn’t want to come, and Mother is busy.” 

And Ozai would never consider being seen out here, went unsaid.

Zuko’s eyes darted up from the ground to his uncle and zeroed in on the urn in Iroh’s arms. The nine year old began to tremble faintly. 

Iroh had a feeling he knew why Zuko had been so desperate to see him that he had felt the need to sneak out of the palace and face the dangers of a crowded market full of strangers. Still, he waited patiently and with a heavy heart for his nephew to speak.

In the meantime, it would be best for him to lead his tiny nephew away from the crowd and towards the carriages like he had planned to before this unexpected development. 

Shifting the urn into a single arm, Iroh used his newly freed limb to reach out to Zuko, managing a small smile when a small hand hesitantly curled itself around his much larger fingers. 

They had walked for a few minutes, and the din of the chaos still occurring on the docks had quieted some when Zuko finally spoke. 

“It's true then. What the letter that mother got said, that Lu T-Ten h-he…”

Tears welled up in Zuko’s eyes but they did not fall, though he had to stop speaking when his throat began to ache with the threat of a sob and he clenched his jaw tight to stop from making any noise. 

Iroh took in a shaky breath and nodded silently. Zuko seemed to understand his uncle’s thoughts without needing any words and turned his eyes back towards the ground. Tiny fingers squeezed his hands and Iroh had to wonder at the sheer amount of compassion contained within this little boy, to find the courage to do what he had done for Iroh today. 

In his grief over the loss of his son he had not given much thought to the possibility that anyone else might be as shaken as he was himself. He knew that Zuko had been close to Lu Ten, and had expected that he might have cried a great deal when he received the news via the letter he had sent to Ursa. Death was a very new concept to someone as young as Zuko, and he was already such a soft and kindhearted boy, much to the annoyance of Ozai, whom Iroh knew to be a fierce and war-focused man. 

Still, Iroh had expected a few tight hugs and some tears. Not sneaking out into a dangerous environment alone and a trembling boy with dark bags under his eyes. 

Again, Iroh had to focus on his breathing in order to remain in control of himself. For several weeks now he had allowed himself to wallow in his grief during his retreat from Ba Sing Se and the long journey home. Now, however, he had a child clutching onto his hand that needed a responsible adult to get him home safely and be a solid rock to lean on.  
With this in mind, it was much easier than it had been in weeks for Iroh to shake off his sadness and stand tall. A mental list of things that needed to be done sorted themselves out in his head and Iroh clutched Zuko’s hand a little tighter. 

“Ah, I think I see our ride home, nephew.” Iroh gestures towards the ostrich horse stables that displayed modest carriages for rent. Iroh was pleased to note that there was an incredibly reasonable price posted for a stable that used ostrich horses. Having been imported from the earth kingdom for breeding fairly recently, the use of ostrich horses in the fire nation tended to be fairly expensive in contrast to the far more common dragon moose used by most. However ostrich horses are fast and agile in a way a steadily increasing amount of fire nationals are beginning to appreciate. 

Iroh gently released Zuko’s hand to make his exchange with the well humored businessman running the stable, who took one look at Zuko’s tired, sunburnt face and allowed him to pet one of the foals while he hitched up the carriage, which seemed to cheer Zuko up a little bit, though the tiny lines that marred his temples did not smooth completely. 

When the carriage was hitched and the driver was set to go, Iroh paid off the stable manager and after a moment's consideration, handed Lu Ten’s urn to Zuko, who gripped it with wide eyes.

Before he had the chance to react, Iroh grabbed him by the waist and picked him up.  
Zuko stiffened, grip tightening around the urn. There was confusion and mild panic in Zuko’s eyes, clearly conveying that he had no idea how to be held. 

Iroh just gave him a reassuring grin and held his nephew close to his chest while he climbed into the carriage. For a moment, Zuko remained stiff, but when Iroh settled into the bench and gently took Lu Ten’s urn from his hands to tuck into the space between his leg and the inner walls of the carriage. Iroh then allowed zuko to slide onto the bench next to him and lean into his side. 

There was a moment of silence as the carriage began to move before Iroh decided to speak. 

“I would like to thank you, nephew, for coming all this way to see an old man home after such a long journey.”

“You’re not old, Uncle.”

At this, Iroh managed a tiny smile. He could be a hundred years old and his nephew would still conspire to convince Iroh that he was but a young warrior in his twenties. It was a joke he would never quite understand, but he had long ago accepted that children were strange creatures who knew little and far too much at the same time when it came to logic and reason. 

“But,” He carried on gently, ignoring the way Zuko went stiff, as most children did when they realized they were in for a scolding.

“Coming here alone was very dangerous, Zuko. You could have been hurt, or taken, and your family would have been very upset.” 

Zuko looked up at his uncle guiltily. He was a very soft spoken boy, when he was very little Ursa had found her son perfectly capable and understanding of speech, but inexplicably reluctant to use said ability to speak. Instead he had preferred to do his best to convey his meanings through his facial expressions. Though a private ‘chat’ Ozai had insisted on having with his son after quickly getting tired of Zuko refusing to answer him when he was speaking to the boy, had Zuko quickly choking out words whenever it was demanded of him.  
.  
Iroh looked into his nephew's eyes and saw the apology he conveyed and ruffled his hair, frowning slightly at the small flinch it earned him. Time to tackle the next priority.

“Are you alright nephew? I'm sorry to say this, but you look a good deal under the weather.”

Zuko seemed to close off. His gaze turned away from Iroh. 

“Oh, um, s-sorry, I-I I’ve just been um, t-training a lot.” Zuko picks at the hem of his tunic. “F-father says my bending is still too weak, so I have to do lots of extra p-practice to get better.” 

Iroh hums. “There is no shame in needing a little practice, i know you worry about your progress in bending, but i think you’ll find that rest and patience will help just as much as training does.”

Zuko frowned. “Father says every minute I spend lazing about is another minute wasted.” 

Iroh sighed but did not attempt to press the matter further. 

The rest of the ride passed in silence, though it was a warm silence. For all that Iroh felt he was barely treading water in an ocean of mixed emotions, he was glad to be here, in a carriage headed home with his nephew safely nestled at his side. There was so much  
Yet to be done, much Iroh had yet to face. The arrangements for Lu Ten’s funeral, his reunion with his family, and the discussion he would have to have with his father sooner rather than later. 

But for now, he was content to exist in this quiet little pocket of time and space where all that mattered was the rise and fall of Zuko’s chest as their breathing synced, and the rocking of the carriage as they made their way home. . 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Imperial Palace was every bit as large and imposing as Iroh remembered it to be. It was surrounded by enormous walls carved in sharp lines, the archery nooks guarded by rooftops gilded in gold, painted red, and edged in terra cotta.

Upon arriving at these gates the carriage was stopped by one of the stone faced guards that lined the entrance. A moment’s conversation with the guard to confirm his identity ensued before the driver was permitted to enter the gates slowly, with a trio of guards following behind as a precaution. 

Beyond the palace gates was the Imperial Threshold. A large courtyard that gave way to a massive staircase that led to the imposing, symmetrical lines of the palace. The blood red roof was edged in gold, much like the palace gates, and it gleamed brightly in the afternoon sun. another set of guards were positioned at the massive doors leading into the palace.v

Zuko had fallen asleep on the way home and so Iroh was grateful for the servants that were waiting for him at the palace steps along with Lo and Li.

The two sisters were a rather ominous pair at first glance. All harsh lines and clipped words. But they had been in the position of Advisors to the Fire lord since Iroh had been a young man, and before that, skilled instructors in the spiritual traditions and ancient cultural knowledge of the fire nation. There were decades of mutual respect between the two sisters and Iroh. He had found their wisdom and refreshingly unbiased cynicism of their own country to be indispensable more than a few times. 

This did not stop Iroh from hesitating when Lo reached out with a steady gaze for the urn containing all that was left of his only son. 

Lo raised a single eyebrow. 

“Rest assured, Prince Iroh, that he will be handled with the utmost respect.” 

“Furthermore.” Interjected LI, “You are going to have your hands full as it is, assuming you intend to ensure the young prince makes it safely back to his chambers.” 

Iroh stiffened for a moment longer and then nodded, if there was anyone he trusted to ensure Lu Ten’s remains made it safely to the Royal Crypt he supposed it would be Lo and Li. he handed the urn over to Lo before shrugging off his sailor’s pack for one of the servants to take to his chambers. Finally, and with great care, Iroh picked his nephew up, slowly so as not to wake him up, and eased out of the carriage. 

Iroh’s legs had gone stiff during the journey to the palace and he took a moment to flex the muscles in his legs before beginning to make his way up the palace steps.

“You should know,” Called Li from behind, “That as soon as you’ve seen to the young prince’s care, that the Firelord expects to speak with you in his majesty’s study.” 

Iroh paused, and then nodded his assent. 

Iroh readjusted his hold on Zuko’s tiny form and waited for the guards to push open the enormous double doors before entering the imposing halls of the Fire Nation Palace. 

He was home.


	2. The Esteemed Firelord Azulon is a ridiculous old meddler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honor and colonizing, while still in the minds and hearts of the nobility, holds less and less value to the commonwealth the longer the war drags on. The people cry in a hushed voice for my successor to be a leader in an era of peace. “ 
> 
> Iroh sighs heavily. “I will not lie to you Father, Agni help me, that I too have become greatly disillusioned with this war. But peace will not come with a simple cease fire and retreat. Much damage has been done by the Fire Nation to our fellow kingdoms. There will be a hefty cry for reparations, vengeance even.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goooddd you guys! I was so surprised at the amount of positve feedback i got after i posted this Fic! i cant even begin to tell you all how much it means to me that you all liked my work. I hope that every chapter i add continues to entertain you all and that you in turn will give me the feedback i need to keep pumping out chapters, hopefully with more improvement as time goes by.

Once Zuko has been safely delivered to his chambers Iroh does not hesitate in changing his route to the Eastern Wing, where the Fire Lord’s chambers reside, including His Majesty’s study. It is in this room that Iroh has no doubts he will be spending the better part of the evening.

The political implications of the Dragon of the West retreating from Ba Sing Se right after piercing it’s so-called impenetrable walls are serious, after all. 

The walk to his father’s study is a familiar one, familiar enough that Iroh can let his thoughts drift and his body relax some while his feet automatically guide him to the heavy red door where he gives a respectful nod to the guards standing post before giving a firm knock. 

There is a moment of silence, and then,

“Enter,” 

Iroh steps into the room. The sun has begun to drift downwards, and the room is lit like molten gold. 

To the right is a circular area not unlike a parlor, with a large, low table and cushions piled on the ground around it and a pai sho board resting propped on it’s side against a wall-length of scrolls and tomes varying in age.

Directly in front of the doorway is a large fireplace, empty for now, as the autumn months are still a ways away, and the summer heat has yet to break. 

Above the fireplace is a large mantel, over it hangs a rather old portrait, one of a much younger version of Iroh himself along with his father, brother, and mother. Iroh allows himself a single beat to let a flicker of nostalgia run through him at this reminder of simpler times before turning slightly to the left. 

Sitting head-bowed at a massive desk piled neatly with paperwork, was Firelord Azulon, first of his name, ruler of the fire nation. 

Azulon looked up.

Iroh bowed.

“Your Majesty.”

A moment of silence. 

And then another. 

“Rise, my son, and close the door behind you.” 

Iroh did as he was told, his posture relaxing some. If His father was dropping the formalities of title, than at least he was not infuriated by Iroh’s humiliation at the walls of Ba Sing Se. 

When he turned back to his father he found himself at a loss for words. So much had they to discuss, and yet, there was no clear starting ground at which to take his first tentative steps into what would be a very long and draining conversation. 

Thankfully, Azulon seemed to sense Iroh’s hesitation, and stood. 

“Some tea, I think. Come, sit with me, Prince Iroh.”

Gratefully, Iroh walked over to the low table to the right of the fireplace and assumed a lotus position on one of the cushions while Azulon summoned a servant to bring a tea set and a selection of tea leaves. 

Aulon prepped the tea and pressed a warm cup into Iroh’s hands. 

Iroh closed his eyes and took a slow sip while Azulon settled into a cushion across the table. It was Jasmine tea, his favorite.

“My son,” Azulon begins, “I cannot imagine the pain your heart bears at this moment. I have had the great fortune to lose only your mother to illness, and a few companions to the withered grip of age. This loss I cannot understand, nor, I must confess, do I wish to. Agni forbid you or your brother are laid to rest before the spirits come for me.” 

Iroh clears his throat in an attempt to clear the ache that has made itself known there. 

“He was...Lu Ten was a good boy, a great man. His loss is an absence at my side,I too, pray you shall not have to know.” 

Azulon nods sadly. “My grandson shall have his rites performed with dignity and honor, as befits a fine young man who did not deserve his sudden fate.” 

“I would apologize to you as well, Father.” 

The Firelord frowns. “Your retreat from Ba Sing Se will certainly be viewed as a grievous blunder by the people and by many of the court.” 

Iroh bows his head in remorse and opens his mouth to utter more apologies, only to be cut off.

“However I wonder if it was not a necessary decision regardless of the grieve that drove you to such a choice.” 

Iroh’s head snapped up. 

Azulon took a long sip from his tea, a considering look on His Majesty’s face. 

“Nearly a hundred years now, the Fire Nation has been at war, since the time of Firelord Sozin, my own grandfather. In my generation, and my father’s, it was a great honor to serve in this war.” 

Azulon set his cup down 

“But a hundred years, my son, is a very long time for one nation to go to war without any allies. So many resources, millions of yen in funds, and the people grow weary of sending their sons and daughters off to die, of valuable mines being harvested for weapons, crops being taken for rations.” 

The Firelord turned his gaze to his son, the heavy burden of a nation resting on his shoulders. 

“Honor and colonizing, while still in the minds and hearts of the nobility, holds less and less value to the commonwealth the longer the war drags on. The people cry in a hushed voice for my successor to be a leader in an era of peace. “ 

Iroh sighs heavily. “I will not lie to you Father, Agni help me, that I too have become greatly disillusioned with this war. But peace will not come with a simple cease fire and retreat. Much damage has been done by the Fire Nation to our fellow kingdoms. There will be a hefty cry for reparations, vengeance even.” 

Azulon nodded. “I hear you, my son, and I have considered this, but the fact remains that regardless of consequences, something must be done. As a stubborn old warrior I can see only the swift overtaking of all other nations under the brilliant light of our great nation. But i am not immortal, nor nearly as stubborn as the avatar Kyoshi. When I pass, I would like to leave behind a subtle legacy, an opening that my successor would take, to make peace possible in the next generation.” 

Iroh leaned back. The enormous weight of everything that his father had just told Iroh did not escape him. 

Peace in the next generation. An impossible dream. There would be a great deal of push-back from the nobility. War had brought great wealth to the already-wealthy and the spoiled upper-class would surely dig their heels in at the thought of losing their dreams of former-earth-kingdom plantations and vacation homes. 

But still, _peace for the next generation!_

Zuko’s weary, sunburnt face flew to the forefront of Iroh’s mind. The general imagined a world where the little prince was free to pursue the life of a scholar or a dancer instead of a soldier who might suffer the same fate as his own son. 

Iroh knew in an instant if peace was even a mere possibility, he would fight tooth and nail, to his very last breath for it. 

  
  


“Speaking of the matter of succession,” 

Azulon unknowingly (Or perhaps more than knowingly) cut off Iroh’s train of thought.  
  


“There is another, more immediately grievous matter I must discuss with you.” 

Azulon’s voice had taken on a noticeably colder tone than what he had previously used while speaking to Iroh. 

Iroh sat up straighter, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“It is regarding your brother, Prince Ozai, who has committed a terrible slight against yourself in your absence.” 

_Oh, little brother, what have you done._

Ice began to form in Iroh’s stomach along with the sinking feeling, as though he had swallowed a frozen stone, which was about to spread it’s chill throughout his veins. 

Azulon lifted his head and straightened his spine. 

“Shortly after word had reached the palace of your loss, Ozai had assembled his wife and children in the throne room for a visit, which he proclaimed to be for the purpose of showing the progress his children had made in their studies. I had hoped that, in the light of the royal family’s recent tragedy, Prince Ozai had merely intended to indulge in a bit of sentimentality and finally allow an old man some time with his grandchildren outside of a diplomatic event.” 

Azulon’s last sentence had been light in tone on the surface, but there was something razor sharp hidden beneath it.

“Instead, I am interrupted within seconds of my conversation with young Prince Zuko by your brother’s impudent brat of a daughter, and in minutes I find Prince Ozai has shoved Prince Zuko away from the center of attention entirely to allow princess Azula to show off her mastery of a new kata done in the _new_ way of firebending.” 

Iroh allows himself a tiny smile at the scorn in his father’s voice. Azulon has always been a firm believer that only the ancient methods of firebending, which required for greater flexibility, core strength and breath control over the new ways, which Azulon had privately declared choppy allowing for far too many shortcuts meant to make firebending quicker and easier to learn. It was a new age war strategy, designed to pump out combat-ready firebending soldiers faster at the cost of true mastery. Iroh himself conceded that some of the new age methods of firebending certainly showed results, and that some of the old methods were in fact, a little outdated. He certainly wasn’t going to tell his father that, however. 

Iroh’s amusement quickly vanished at the other piece of information he had gleaned from his father. 

“I fear Ozai favors my niece a little too much. Ursa tells me in her letters that the young princess is straying further and further from the potential she showed as a child to seek her place in the exact mold of her father.” 

Iroh took another sip of his tea. Hmm, it was getting a little cold. He heated his palms just a little to fix it. 

“Ozai’s mold however, was meant for Ozai. I fear she will find out far too late that she does not fit into the exact image of her father.” 

Azulon gave a surprisingly dignified snort. 

“My little namesake’s vanity was the least of the night’s problems. Overlooking my youngest son’s complete lack of discipline over his daughter, l found myself concerned when young Prince Zuko bravely stood after his sister against the wishes of his father and attempted a lower level of katas with little success. It would seem that were one of Prince Ozai’s children has thrived under the new way of teaching, the other only continues to sink further the more he pushes himself.” 

Iroh frowned, remembering how weary his nephew had looked when they had reunited and how he had mentioned needing extra practice. 

“Perhaps then, it would be prudent to introduce Prince Zuko to the old katas, and see how he takes to them.” 

Azulon nodded in agreement, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes before a sneer overtook his face. Iroh started a bit at the sudden change in mood. 

“The real disgrace occurred, however, after Ozai sent his children away along with their mother.” 

Azulon picked up his tea cup once more and downed the last of it. 

“Prince Ozai knelt before me, on a day of tremendous grieving, not just for this family, but for the entire country, and asked that I take from you, my eldest son, your place in the line of succession. He claimed so boldly in front of myself that it was for the _good of the nation_ that he be replace you in the line of succession.”

Iroh’s eyes widened in shock. The ice in his stomach spread through his limbs and overtook his heart. 

Before Iroh had a chance to gather his composure enough to think of a reply the Firelord carried on. 

“What Prince Ozai has done displays a tremendous feat of disrespect, to you, to the memory of Prince Lu Ten, and to myself. His actions have proven that in the time that I have graciously allowed him to attend his duties as a member of the royal family without supervision, as I have come to expect a responsible man with children of his own to be able do, he has instead grown impetuous and as childish as his eight year old daughter!” 

Iroh lowered his head into his hands, clenching his digits to stop them from trembling. 

Ozai and Iroh had grown apart decades ago, this Iroh knew. As the youngest of the two heirs, Ozai had been spoiled in a way Iroh could not afford to be, free from the responsibilities that came with being groomed to rule an entire nation as well as to partake in a high position as a general in the war. 

Iroh knew that he did not actively crave power because he was intimate with the great burden that came with responsibility, just as he knew Ozai craved power because he did not. 

But to pull something like _this,_ to use the death of Iroh’s _son_ as a mere **tool** to achieve power…

There were no words for any of the _many_ things Iroh was feeling right now. 

A sharp noise had Iroh lowering his hands and tensing up, before he realised the sound had been caused by Iroh himself. In his turmoil, the empty lanterns positioned around the room had burst into bright plumes of flame that rose high to match his racing pulse. 

Azulon studied his eldest son with a complicated emotion in his eyes. 

“My reaction, I must confess, had been quite similar to your own, my son.”

Iroh darted his eyes to one of the windows in search of something-anything-to distract distract himself long enough to calm down. 

Azulon paused for another moment to give his son the time he needed before continuing. 

“I had considered issuing his punishment myself, right then and there. I had thought it fitting that Ozai should have his own heir taken from him, seeing as he has such disregard for the loss of yours.”

Iroh’s mind screeched to a halt. 

“F-Father,” Iroh said shakily “Surely you don’t mean-”

“You misunderstand me.” Azulon reassures quickly, horror dawning on his face as he realise what he has unintentionally suggested.

“No, my son, there has been enough death in this family. I only meant to send Prince Zuko away, perhaps to study under the fire sages to learn of spirituality, or to entrust him to the care of Li and Lo on Ember Island, to continue his studies there, as a minor noble rather than as a prince.”

Azulong scowled. 

“As it stands, I quickly came to the conclusion that such a punishment would rule null and void, as your brother had already proven to me just how little he favors his eldest. To punish him so would be to punish Prince Zuko, and Prince Zuko alone, with no remorse from his father. In the end I decided that because the slight was primarily against yourself, that it would be best to lay the matter of punishing Prince Ozai to you, upon your return.” 

Oh, this much was true. 

“It saddens me, to think that such a kind boy is not treasured like the rare flower he is, and that my brother has not allowed him the space to blossom.” 

“Indeed.” Azulon nodded sagely. “I might have thought to take away his youngest instead, seeing as he favors her so much.” He added darkely. 

Iroh shook his head. “No.” He said decisively. “I have no wish to punish a child for the misdeeds of the father.” 

“Then what would you do, Prince Iroh?” Azulon asked calmly. 

Iroh faltered. He thought of little Zuko’s tired face at the docks. He recalled his sunburnt limbs and how light he had felt for a nine year old, and how terribly skinny he was for a child of nobility. 

Iroh wondered how the boy might in a year from now, if he were raised on a calm island far away from Capitol City, free of noble rank, but cared for just the same. 

“I admit,” Iroh began slowly, “Your own idea is not a terrible one, but so is your reasoning for withholding such a punishment. It pains me to admit it, but I have noticed a shadow falling over my brother, the darker it’s light, so colder has he grown. Prince Ozai lusts after power, and amorously he courts the further tidings of war ” 

The Firelord seemed to start at this, a realization flickering across his severe face. 

“Prince Ozai ultimately desires the throne, to do this, he must be further along in the line of succession.” 

  
  


Iroh frowned, not understanding where his father was going with this line of thinking. 

“Speak plainly, Father. I am afraid I do not understand what you are attempting to say.” 

Azulon grinned but it was a cold thing. 

“Prince Ozai would not care if his son was taken from him and placed in a far away temple or island, no. But he would care very much, if his son was taken from him and put ahead of himself in the line of succession.”

_Placed in the line of-_

“Father.” Iroh fought not to let his voice shake. “My son has just _died!_ Surely you cannot be suggesting-” 

“A man is often aimless in the throes of grief.” Azulon spoke in a soothing voice. “To have a child once more, to raise and train as you did with Prince Lu Ten-”

Iroh leapt to his feet, eyes squeezed shut, and Azulon realized he’d begun to raise his voice. 

The Firelord sighed and gentled his tone. 

“I think it would be good for you. I think it would be good for the boy as well.” 

That got Iroh’s attention. He opened his eyes and jolted a little. Azulon, knowing now where his eldest son’s heart lay, carried on with this particular thread. 

“We have both seen Prince Ozai’s disregard for his heir. As someone who has not seen either of his grandchildren outside of a formal setting, I cannot say entirely that I understand how the boy is treated behind closed doors. However, I believe I am correct when I say that you can do a far better job of raising Prince Zuko into a fine young man than his blood sire is currently doing.”

Iroh twitched, eyes shuttering. Checkmate. 

“Zuko should have a say in this.” Iroh demanded after a pause. 

“Very well.” 

“And I want it to be made clear that the boy has options.” 

“As you wish, my son.” 

“It should be done soon”

“Tomorrow then, at tea.” 

“Fine.” 

‘Excellent.” 

Iroh sagged, the fight draining out of him. 

Azulon smirked, knowing full well he had won. 

“It is getting late. The moon will soon climb to her peak.” 

Iroh turned back to the window to see that indeed the moon shone bright and night had settled firmly over the island. 

“I would request my leave then.”

“Of course, my son.”

The Son bowed to the Father and the Dragon of the West took his leave. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


The Crown Prince’s Chambers were exactly as Iroh had left them when he had departed for war. 

Iroh shuffled across the room slowly. The parlor and main living space was covered in dust, the fireplace cold and the kotatsu settled by the paper screen doors that led to the gardens was bare, no doubt the maidservants had yet to replace it after it’s removal to prevent fire-moths. 

Eyes tracked the otherwise warm space that now felt cold with the absence of the boy who had also called these rooms home. 

Iroh trailed his hands over the plush couches and ottomans, remembering a time when Lu Ten had been small enough to crawl all over the furniture, jumping from place to place as though the tatami that covered the floor were deadly magma rather than harmless woven reeds and bamboo. 

Iroh tried to imagine his nephew in Lu Ten’s place, and found that he could no longer imagine Zuko doing something as simple as laughing and playing pretend. 

Iroh stopped at the threshold of a familiar door, scuffed and marked from generations of use, and hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. 

Lu Ten’s bedroom was, much like the rest of the chambers, dusty and untouched. If the Firelord had his way, then the servants would need to do a good share of cleaning in order for it to be habitable again. 

Iroh simply stood in the doorway, taking in the long-abandoned chest of childhood toys, the calligraphy scrolls sitting on a desk in the corner, practice swords propped up against near-empty bookshelves. 

He tried to imagine how the room might look in the future and paused at the realisation that the thought of shelves lined with play scrolls and a floor scattered with toys new and old with the occasional stuffed turtleduck did not ache nearly so much as Iroh had thought it would. 

_‘Perhaps’,_ Iroh mused as he left the dusty room in favor of his own sleeping quarters, ‘ _there is something to my father’s latest scheme.’_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to understand something about Azulon and that is that he is a grumpy old PTSD ridden man who was literally raised for the purpose of being an instrument of war. He tired, guys, and he misses his grandbabies.  
> I Understand that this is pretty different from cannon but it's my Au sooooo...  
> Also expect a lot more tea parties, Iroh had to get his tea obsession from SOMEWHERE!
> 
> Next up will be a chapter all about lil baby Zuko so stay tuned readers!
> 
> love u bye <3 <3 <3


	3. Turtleducks are Friends, Not Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko shuffled forward with bated breath. 
> 
> There, sitting at a low table laden with food was Firelord Azulon and...Uncle Iroh? 
> 
> Zuko is summoned from breakfast with his family by the firelord himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays guys! It took me a long time to pump out this chapter. i really wanted to get the dialogue juuust right! I've got a loaded schedule ahead of me for the next two weeks so i wanted to get this out before my oldest-younger sister arrives for the weekend and we all head out to celebrate an early christmas with the grandparents. 
> 
> any readers ever experienced a religeon shift before? Cause i was raised lightly on christianity, but i've never been to church, so i mainly considered myself athiest or agnostic, but now i'm thinking i feel a pull towards paganism? Ugh, its a mess, one i can never tell my parents about lol. 
> 
> enjoy the chapter and have a happy holiday everyone!

Zuko stifles a yawn as he chokes down another piece of unseasoned tofu. Across from him, Azula smirks triumphantly over her plate of miso rice and cooked turtleduck eggs. Her latest campaign to torture Zuko seemed to be psychological warfare, in the form of telling father that Turtleduck was her favorite food now, resulting in an abundance of it at every meal. Any other form of meat at the table usually went to Father, thus, forcing Zuko to become a vegetarian. 

Azula seemed to be under the impression that eventually Zuko would break and eat the turtleduck while sobbing like a little baby or something. 

Zuko stubbornly chewed his tofu. He  _ wasn’t _ going to break and he  _ wasn’t  _ going to eat turtleduck! No matter how hungry Zuko was, which was often, because Azula kept orchestrating for there to be less and less vegetables at every meal. At this rate, Zuko would be living off of plain rice within a week. 

Azula smirked. 

Zuko stifled another yawn. 

Zuko wishes that he had been able to nap for longer after falling asleep during the ride home with Uncle. He had woken up in his rooms to Azula poking him in the eye and demanding to know where he’d been all afternoon. Apparently she and her friends had needed a lowly minion to torture during one of their firebending games, and Azula had wanted to use Zuko.

“It’s not like we’d want you on the  _ firebending  _ team.” She’d sniffed. 

“Just use Ty Lee then.” Zuko had grumbled. Azula had ignored his logic, preferring to take every opportunity she could to remind Zuko about how much of a miserable failure he was at firebending, especially compared to her stupid prodigy self. 

Still, Zuko hadn’t cracked. He knew if he told Azula that Uncle was home she would either run off to torment him for sending her a doll and giving Zuko a knife, or Zuko would have to listen to her disrespect Uncle and the spirit of Lu Ten  _ again. _

Psychological warfare aside, Azula loved how much it made Zuko scream and cry when she called Lu Ten a weak fool who Uncle was stupid to miss so much that he gave up on Ba Sing Se. 

Zuko snapped a carrot in half and crunched on it angrily, carefully eyeing his father to make sure the noise had not disturbed his reading of the daily reports and paperwork stuff, as he did every day during breakfast. 

Lu Ten had been  _ good.  _ He had taught Zuko how to speak and had been present for his first steps. Li and Lo had always been more than happy to tease Zuko with stories about Lu Ten carrying Zuko around like a squirming fox-kitten everywhere he went. Lu Ten had taught Zuko how to swim, and let him watch while he trained with his swords. He had hugged Zuko when he cried and made him laugh when he was mad.

He was more of a sibling than  _ Azula  _ ever acted and she was just jealous because when she had thrown a temper tantrum and screamed at Lu Ten to stop treating her like a baby and leave her alone, he had. 

Zuko remembered the day Lu Ten and Uncle had left to go to war. Zuko had cried and cried for ages and clung to Lu Ten’s leg to try and stop him from leaving. 

Lu Ten had just pulled Zuko up into his arms for one last hug and shoved a well-loved stuffed turtleduck into his arms. Zuko recognized it as one of the toys that usually sat on one of the shelves in Lu Ten’s room. Sometimes, when Lu Ten was busy with his studies he would pull his old toys down from wherever they had been left and let Zuko play with them on the floor while he studied. The turtleduck had always been Zuko’s favorite. 

Then Lu Ten was going away to war and he was letting Zuko keep his turtleduck. 

“A ducky for my ducky!” Lu Ten had teased him gently, something soft and warm that reminded Zuko of Mother in his eyes. 

Uncle Iroh had placed a hand on Lu Ten’s shoulder then, and Zuko knew it was really time for them to go. 

And Lu Ten had walked away to board a war ship with Uncle and he hadn’t come back. 

Azula had laughed at Zuko for crying as much as he had when Mother had sat with them and told the news of Lu Ten’s death. 

Zuko had hid in his room and clutched his stuffed turtleduck tightly to his chest, trying to breath in a hint of Lu Ten’s smell that long since faded from months of being in Zuko’s room. 

Father had punished Zuko for his childish display of weakness with extra firebending lessons. The news about Lu Ten hadn’t bothered  _ him  _ any! In fact, he and Azula both had creepy secret smiles all over their faces. Zuko didn’t like it. 

In any case, Azula loved it when Father punished Zuko, but she loved it even more to punish Zuko herself. 

Later that night Zuko could only cry helplessly, cradling his burnt hands while Azula made him watch her burn his turtleduck to nothing more than a pile of ashes. 

“It’s only a stupid toy, Zuzu.” She’d crooned. 

Zuko hasn’t been able to sleep well since then. Between his restlessness and his grueling lessons, which now take place from early afternoon all the way to sunset, Zuko knows that even though Uncle is finally home, he’s still in for an agonizing day. 

Zuko knows that Mother always says that because Azula is his little sister it’s his job to be kind to her and try to get along with her. Watching her tear into another chunk of turtleduck with savage glee however, makes him think that he wouldn’t mind hitting Azula and pushing her into a fountain. 

Zuko shakes his head and goes back to nibbling at his tofu. He has a long day of training ahead of him and dwelling on hateful thoughts won’t help him with anything. Mother always says it’s important to be kind and forgiving anyways, and Zuko wants to be just like Mother. 

Zuko glances at her empty seat. It’s a rare day that Mother ever eats with the rest of the family. She’s always away doing important noblewoman stuff with her noblewoman friends. Sometimes when Father isn’t around she’ll appear and spend time with Zuko by the turtleduck pond or try to impart a few lessons on Ladylike Behavior to Azula (with very little success) but for the most part, since Uncle and Lu Ten went to war she has been around very little. 

_ Maybe now that Uncle is home Mother will be home more often.  _

A servant approached the dining table with her head lowered respectfully, hands clasped dutifully together. Zuko recognized her as Maaya, one of the maidservants dedicated to delivering paperwork and running errands for the Firelord. She reminded Zuko a lot of Li and Lo, in that she spoke in clipped words that got her meaning across as quickly as possible and wasted no time on frivolous language. Zuko wondered if being stern and practical was a requirement for working directly with the Firelord. 

“What do you want?” Father spoke dismissively, turning from his scrolls to look down his nose at Maaya as though her mere presence akin to that of an annoying bug. 

Maaya met Father’s eyes unblinkingly, a faintly unimpressed air about her. Azula must have recognized Maaya too, because she set down her chopsticks and stared with open curiosity. 

“I’m here to retrieve Prince Zuko.” 

Two sets of eyes snapped to Zuko. He shrunk down in his seat. Apprehension settled in his stomach. Suddenly Zuko was glad that he had eaten so little. 

“Prince Zuko,” Father began, looking at Zuko with his ‘I’m very Irritated’ eyes. “Has a very busy day of education ahead of him. As futile as these lessons have been in molding him into a respectable member of the royal family I’m afraid whatever menial task my wife wishes for Prince Zuko to complete will have to wait.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. Father...didn’t recognize Maaya? He thought she worked for Mother? It was true that Mother sometimes rescued Zuko from his lessons if she thought it had been too many weeks since he had last been allowed a break but usually she came in person. 

Maaya raised a single eyebrow. 

“I am here on behalf of the Firelord, not Princess Ursa.”

Father’s eyes widened. Azula’s face turned to shock, and then to glee. Zuko dropped his chopsticks, fear settled in his stomach and he was sure his face turned white (an impressive feat for being as sunburned from firebending lessons as he was) as he remembered what his sister had told him several weeks before, about the conversation between Father and the Firelord that she had eavesdropped on. 

“Firelord Azulon was very mad at Father for wanting to remove Prince Iroh from the line of succession.” She’d said, practically preening in her own smugness. “I heard him say that Father ought to understand his brother’s suffering a little better. I bet he’ll order Father to kill you as payback!” 

Azula had never looked so smug and gleeful. It was no secret between the two of them that Azula thought she ought to have been born first. Most days Zuko agreed with her. After all, he was pretty useless. If he had been born last, then Azula would have been Father’s heir and Father...probably wouldn’t like Zuko anymore than he did right now, but Zuko would probably have been ignored, and treated like he didn’t exist while Father spent more time grooming Azula for her rightful inheritance. 

Zuko had been scared when Azula told him the firelord wanted Father to kill him, but he’d ‘taken it with a grain of salt’ as Mother always told Zuko to do when he was told something he couldn’t prove. Azula always lies and when weeks went by without Father nor Zuko being summoned to the throne room he had eventually relaxed and dismissed Azula’s story as just another lie. 

But now the firelord wanted to see Zuko.

Zuko fought to keep his face blank and his breathing even while all the fear he’d felt weeks ago came rushing back, but like, times a hundred!

“Boy!” Father barked, eyes cold. “Go with the servant and do as she says.” 

Zuko nodded once and stood. Maaya turned and walked to the dining hall’s entrance without missing a beat. When Zuko made to follow her however, a strong hand sprung out and clenched around Zuko’s upper arm. Father’s grip was tight, and his hand was just hot enough hurt, but not to burn. 

“Do  _ not _ embarrass me!” Father hissed. “We  _ will _ discuss this later.” 

Zuko nodded, being careful to keep his gaze on the ground. It was important not to look his betters in the eye. 

Maaya cleared her throat and Father released his hold on Zuko’s arm. 

Zuko scrambled to follow Maaya, mimicking her posture a bit and clasping his hands at the waist as she was. 

Zuko fought not to tremble as Maaya led Zuko through the halls. He was confused when she did not stop at the throne room but instead led him straight past the massive double doors without pausing. 

He wasn’t being taken to the throne room? Zuko figured the throne room would’ve been the best place for an execution since the tile would be easiest to get any blood off of. But maybe…

Zuko shivered as Maaya led him down a dimly lit hall lined with obsidian armor accompanied by portraits of their long dead owners. 

Maybe... the firelord didn’t  _ want  _ the blood stains to clean off easily. Maybe he wanted Zuko’s blood to create a huge stain the servants couldn’t fix to serve as a reminder for the next noble who wanted to question the royal bloodline! 

Maybe the firelord would run him through with a sword and watch him with cold eyes as he bled out and have a royal artist paint an outline of his body so that everyone would know exactly how Zuko died! Maybe-

Zuko clipped his shoulder as Maaya rounded a corner and he gasped hard. Maaya paused and turned to him. 

Zuko quickly averted his gaze to the floor. His own reflection stared back at him and he cringed internally at the sight of his own face. 

“S-sorry.” He muttered. 

A thin hand set itself on his head. Zuko jumped hard before forcing himself to stay still. He had no idea what the woman wanted. 

Maaya’s face was perfectly deadpan, betraying nothing. She buried her hand in Zuko’s hair and scratched his scalp once before removing her hand and continuing to move forward. 

Zuko touched his hair, bewildered at her actions. 

Just...what? 

Zuko had no idea what  _ that  _ was about! It...hadn’t hurt. It felt a little like when Azula had played with his hair as a toddler, before she had discovered that there was more joy in ripping her brother's hair out just to hear him yelp in pain than arranging his hair into messy braids. 

Maybe Maaya had meant for it to hurt? Maybe she had meant to tug on Zuko’s hair in reprimand for slowing her down but her grip had slipped? 

Zuko shook his head and quickened his pace to try and match Maaya steps. Normally Zuko didn’t have this much trouble keeping up with adults, even though he was pretty small for his age, but Maaya was super tall and though her strides were measured and unhurried Zuko still had to scramble to keep up with her. 

Two more lefts and a right led Zuko down a brightly lit hall lined with tall windows. The morning sun warmed Zuko’s face and reminded him of the red, peeling skin grating against the collar of his tunic. Zuko was suddenly aware that he was going to be executed by the firelord in his  _ training  _ tunic! 

Zuko felt a buzzing at the back of his head as he and Maaya came to a stop in front of an elaborate door. 

This was it. Zuko was going to die.

Zuko was scared earlier but now...he didn’t really feel anything. 

Maaya knocked on the door and a deep, imposing voice answered.

Maaya stepped in. “Your Majesty, I have the young prince for you.” 

“Thank you, miss Maaya. Bring him in.” 

Maaya placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder and guided him into the room. 

Zuko shuffled forward with bated breath. 

There, sitting at a low table laden with food was Firelord Azulon and...Uncle Iroh? 

Zuko blinked. 

Yep. That’s definitely Uncle sitting across from the firelord with a tea cup cradled in his callused hands. 

“Hello, Prince Zuko.” 

Zuko jolted and quickly moved to bow deeply. The firelord didn’t sound mad...but his voice was largely unreadable. 

“Rise, little prince, this is not a formal occasion.”

What? 

Firelord Azulon motioned to the cushion between his own and Uncle’s. “Come and eat with us, grandson.” 

_ What?  _

Zuko stumbled forward and plopped onto the cushion. 

“Thank you, Maaya, that will be all.” 

Maaya bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her with a click. 

The table was loaded with foods Zuko hadn’t seen in  _ weeks. _ Grilled fish, pickled vegetables, nori scattered across the table in multiple plates along with bowls of rice covered in sesame seeds and sticky natto, sliced fruits, and a bowl of speckled lizard-chicken eggs at the center of the table next to a steaming clay teapot with dragons carved into it. 

Zuko settled a little more firmly into his seat, but made no move to grab any of the plates or bowls. 

“Tea, Nephew?” Uncle spoke at last, setting his own cup down and leaning forwards, pausing with his hand hovering over the teapot. 

Zuko nodded. Tea sounded nice. 

Uncle gave Zuko an ornate clay cup and pushed a small tin of matcha powder towards him. Zuko quickly spooned a small pile of matcha into his mug and leaned back so that Uncle could pour the hot water into his cup. Zuko stirred the matcha and blew on his tea a few times before taking a sip. 

_ Oh.  _ Zuko felt his shoulders loosen. The matcha tea was warm and smooth and sweet and Zuko closed his eyes for a moment to savor the first sip which was, in Zuko’s opinion, always the very best. 

“I’m glad to see that I was correct in guessing that matcha was still your favorite tea.” 

Uncle sounded vaguely amused but Zuko just nodded. 

“One day I will convince you of the merits of Jasmine Tea.” Uncle huffed, but Zuko could tell that he didn’t seem angry. 

“I don’t know, my-.” 

Zuko jumps, spilling matcha on the table. 

Zuko gasps and moves to cup his hands at the edge of the table and catch the tea that threatened to drip off and stain the tatami mats. 

Oh no , oh _ no!  _ The air seemed to grow thin, and Zuko’s lungs shallow and tight. The sun was too hot and the tea was burning Zuko’s hands and his thoat hurts and the  _ firelord _ was watching Zuko ruin everything  _ again _ like the stupid, useless, weak helpless  _ miserable  _ little failure he was and-

“Zuko!” 

Strong, callused hands pulled Zuko’s away from the table and covered the area with a white towel. A matching cloth envelopes Zuko’s hands, soaking up the matcha and staining green. 

“ _ Breathe,  _ Zuko.” Uncle’s voice is right next to Zuko, startling him all over again and oh  _ no  _ Zuko is in so much trouble now isn’t he? He ruins  _ everything- _

The world spins and suddenly Zuko is breathing in the smell of jasmine and smoke. 

“Shhh. It was an accident, you’re okay, Zuko. shh, you don’t have to apologise.” 

Zuko’s hands throb from where they are cradled to his chest still wrapped up in the now damp towel. Zuko realises that his throat aches because he is trying to hold in sobs while apologizing over and over again for his stupid bout of clumsiness. 

“ m sorry m sorry m’sorry  _ Im’ sorry! I-” _

Uncle is pulling Zuko fully off of his cushion and into his lap, big arms encircling Zuko’s frame and forcing Zuko to bury his face into a strong chest covered in soft morning robes. 

“Zuko.” Uncle’s voice is firm, but not like how Father’s voice gets whenever Zuko has another one of his screw ups. 

“You are not in trouble, Nephew.” Uncle stroked Zuko’s back. 

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and focused on taking deep breaths, but it was hard when his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he started hiccuping. 

Uncle rocked Zuko back and forth, as though he were a little kid again. 

Zuko breathed. 

“You are afraid of me.” 

Zuko blinked. He was so tired. Tired enough to be honest out loud.

“Yes.”

When Zuko lifted his head away from Uncle’s chest he saw that Firelord Azulon looked as tired as Zuko felt. 

“Then I have failed as a grandfather.”    
  


Zuko lowered his eyes. In truth, he often forgot that the firelord was his grandfather. He seemed so distant and imposing, like a great spirit of wrath instead of a person. Zuko wasn’t sure what normal grandparents were supposed to do, but he imagined that the firelord had no time to waste on them. 

“I-I, I am sorry about the tea.” Above him, Zuko could hear Uncle huff. 

“I am sorry child, for startling you.” 

“I-it’s fine.” 

Firelord Azulon nodded, but Zuko got the feeling that he didn’t really agree.

“Let me see your hands, Zuko.” Uncle gently pulled Zuko’s hands away from his chest. His fingers were red, and they still throbbed a little, but they didn’t hurt nearly as bad as they did a few minutes ago. 

Uncle’s hands were gentle as he traced his calloused fingers over Zuko’s own digits, occasionally turning them over or adding pressure. 

“They’ll be alright I think.” Uncle said in a much more cheerful tone. 

“They don’t even hurt as bad as my sunburns.” Zuko agreed. 

Uncle pursed his lips at that and for a moment Zuko worried that he had said the wrong thing but then Firelord Azulon turned towards Zuko and held his arms out. 

Zuko looked up at Uncle Iroh, who nodded encouragingly. Hesitantly, Zuko slid out of his arms and walked over to stand before the firelord. 

Zuko tried to keep his eyes on the floor but a strong, thin hand reached out and grasped his chin, forcing him to look into Firelord Azulon’s eyes. 

“Young Zuko,” the firelord began in a somber tone, “I will not pretend that I am a good man, no leader of war is unsullied. But in my reluctance to interfere with the affairs of my own family, I fear that, far worse than a tainted leader, I have become a terrible grandfather. I know so little of you or your sister, and with my absence, fear of myself has spread within my own family.” 

Zuko’s grandfather took his free hand and loosely clasped it around one of Zuko’s reddened hands. 

“Child, would you allow an old man a chance at redemption? A chance in forging a connection with my family?” 

Sitting at a low table, golden eyes earnest and solem, the firelord did not seem nearly so scary as in the stories Azula had told Zuko. 

He nodded. 

Azulon smiled. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

There were a great deal of things about Azulon’s youngest grandson that disturbed him. 

Currently, it was how little he ate.

Azulon was adamant that before any talk of Ozai and Zuko’s adoption were to take place, at least a little bit of trust between Azulon himself and his grandson should first be established. Should his plans go accordingly, Azulon would be spending a lot more time with his last living grandson, and he would like that time to be a host for good memories untainted by fear and stress. 

Zuko had gazed at the breakfast spread with an obvious longing in his eyes earlier, but when all was said and done, and the trio had finally settled down properly to eat, Zuko had not done more than nibble at a few pieces of fruit and nori despite his limbs being so thin Azulon thought they might snap in half.

Azulon met his son’s eye and knew that he had noticed the same signs of neglect as he did in the little prince. 

Iroh is trying to probe for details on Zuko’s life. Gentle questions taken between bites of food. 

“How have your lessons been going?”

“Not good, Father says I need to practice a lot more if I’m gonna catch up to Azula.” 

“How is your mother?”

“She’s fine. I bet she misses having tea with you.”

“I’ll be sure to pay her a visit then. Did you like the gifts I sent you and your sister?”

“I liked the dagger you sent, Azula didn’t like the doll though.”

“Oh?”

“Uh huh, she burned it.” 

“I am sorry to hear that. I take it that I should have gotten her a dagger as well?” 

“Probably. I don’t think she needs another one, though.”

“Another one?”

“She took mine.” 

“Ah. And did you give it to her willingly?”

“Azula just kind of gets whatever she wants. I told her I didn’t want to give my dagger to her but she went to Father and he told me to share.”

“Does Azula ever share  _ her  _ things with you?”

“Why would she do that?”

Iroh and Azulon share a glance at that. 

After that Zuko goes from eating slowly to picking at his rice without eating at all, so Azulon decides to send for a servant to clear the table while Iroh shows Zuko the pai sho table propped up by the bookcase. 

Zuko is not swayed by Iroh’s attempts at distraction, however. The boy has a look of conflict on his face, he glances at Azulon whenever he thinks he is not looking. Clearly, he senses that something is amiss. 

Azulon thinks there might be a potential for impressive intelligence hidden within the little prince, if only he could be given the tools to nurture his strengths. 

“Is there something you wanted to ask, Zuko?” 

The tiny son of Azulon’s son puffed out his tiny red cheeks in determination. 

“Why am I here?” 

Iroh intakes hard. “Zuko-”

“ _ Why am I here?”  _ His voice is louder this time. 

When in doubt, there is always the blunt honesty of children to keep you in check. 

“It is a lengthy and serious discussion.” Azulon feels he has to warn the boy.

“Is it about Father?” 

Iroh closes his eyes. Against his will, Azulon barks out a laugh, but there is little humor in it. 

“Yes, child, it has a good deal to do with Prince Ozai.” 

“A-are, um.” Zuko lowers his gaze. His hands fidget with his tunic. 

“Are you...are you gonna kill me?” 

For a beat, there is silence. 

_ “WHAT?” _

_ “ _ **_NO!”_ **

Iroh is on his feet in an instant, arms coming down to grasp Zuko firmly by the shoulders. 

“No.” 

There is a very heavy weight in that single word. 

“Zuko.” 

Azulon joins his son and takes his grandson by the chin. Gold looked into gold. 

“I. Would.  _ Never.  _ Lay a  _ single _ hand on you with the intent to harm.” 

“Oh.” Zuko breathed, looking faint. “O-okay.” 

“Prince Ozai’s punishment  _ will  _ have a very significant impact on you, and for that I am sorry, but you will not come to  _ any  _ harm! This, I swear, as a grandfather before a leader. This family has seen enough death.” 

“But something  _ is  _ going to happen to me.” 

Iroh closed his eyes. 

“Yes.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Azulon settled back down onto his cushion, wincing internally as his knees popped in protest. He held his arms open and after a moment, zuko came down to sit nestled into his side willingly. Iroh pulled his cushion over so that he could sit next to Zuko. 

“Prince Ozai,” Azulon began, “committed a great disrespect on that night, when he attempted to insist that I take away your uncle Iroh’s place in the line of succession.”

“I knew about that part.” Zuko admits.

“You are not the first child within these halls who has hidden behind the throne room’s draperies.” Azulon assures with a small smile before continuing. 

“I am very angry with Prince Ozai, because his words were a great insult not only to your uncle, but to the spirit of Lu Ten, whose death was incredibly tragic and does not deserve to be taken advantage of.”

He paused to allow Zuko to nod, his golden eyes were wide and serious. Azulon noticed that the boy had worry lines engraved at his temples. He was far too young for that… 

“It is my intention, that if Prince Ozai is so concerned about the line of succession, then perhaps instead of attempting to further himself in position to the throne,” 

Azulon paused and looked Zuko in the eye. 

“Someone of the younger generation should be moved upwards into the position as Prince Iroh’s heir.” 

The young prince froze. 

“I-I don-I don’t understand.” 

Azulon looked at Zuko calculatingly. “Does Prince Ozai cherish you as a son, Zuko? Does he look after your needs, and treat you equally to your sister?” 

Zuko ducked his head. 

“I-I mean-that-that’s not-Azula is better than me a-and I’m just-” 

“A child.” Iroh cuts Zuko off sharply. “You are a child. It is not any fault of yours if your sister has developed faster than you have, and it is meant to be your parents duty and privilege to give you the tools you need to reach the milestones in your life at a pace that is healthy for  _ you _ .” 

The nine year old looked overwhelmed. “Wha-what does this have to do with…” 

“If you are to be moved up in the line of succession,” Azulon interjected gently, running a hand through Zuko’s hair. “Then Prince Ozai would not be your father anymore, Prince Iroh would.” 

The poor boy looked close to hyperventilating. 

“Uncle would be...like-like adoption?” 

“Yes.” Iroh confirmed. “You would live with me, in the Crown Prince’s chambers. I would look after your health, your education, and your safety. Ozai would have no more to do with you than he had to do with Lu Ten.”

“L-Lu Ten…?” 

Zuko burst into tears. 

“Oh, child.” Azulon sighed as Iroh took it upon himself to pull Zuko once more into his lap and rocked the little boy gently. 

“I-I don’t want-I ca-an’t-Lu-u Ten-I don’t wanna-” Zuko’s already red face turned even darker as he struggled to heave in gasping breaths and articulate himself at the same time. 

“You will in no way be replacing Lu Ten.” Azulon guessed at what was bothering Zuko. “It would be as if you were his younger brother.” 

Zuko’s face screwed up even more and Azulon worried that he had said the wrong thing. 

“Why do I get to be his bro-brother  _ now!”  _ He wailed. “I-I Lo-oved hi-him an-an he-he’ _ hic’ _ he’s Gone! an-and _ - _ It’s not fair!” 

Iroh’s eyes misted over as he held his sobbing nephew. He ran a hand up and down Zuko’s back and buried his face in the boy’s fluffy black hair. 

“I know, Zuko. I know it’s not fair.” Iroh chokes. 

Azulon placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. He is unsure how to help. There is so much hurt in the room, so much grief. He had not known that his youngest grandson had been this attached to his oldest, and is forced to add this fact to the incredibly long list of things he does not know about his own family. 

It steels his resolve to burn away the veil of ignorance he had shrouded himself with. For the sake of the next generation, he would not cower away from his misdeeds.

Zuko calms down some and when he does his eyes are red and puffy and his tiny chest is shaking from the force of his sobs. He looked tired, as did Iroh. 

Zuko took a deep breath. “I love Uncle. I don’t wanna be in the way. ‘Especially since he just got home an-an Lu Ten just…” 

“You are no burden, Zuko.” Iroh said firmly. He pulls his hand away from Zuko’s back to wipe his eyes. “I love you very much. Despite whatever you have been led to believe about your worth, I think you are very precious.”

This time it is Iroh who grasps Zuko by the chin. 

“You do not have to become my son, Zuko. There are other options. No matter what you choose I will care for you just the same, but I will not deny that I have grown wary of your father, and that it breaks my heart to see you like this, exhausted and worked to the bone by impossible expectations.” 

“Iroh is right.” Azulon chimes in. “There are other ways to punish Prince Ozai. You do not have to do this, but as your uncle has said, it pains us to see you neglected like this.” 

Zuko shakes his head and buries himself into the safety of his uncle’s chest. Quietly, he speaks. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Iroh’s eyes widened. “You do not have to, Zuko.” 

“I know.” More quietly, “I love you, Uncle Iroh.”

Iroh sniffed and embraced the nine year old tightly. 

“I love you too, Zuko.” 

“I will see that it is done then.” Azulon speaks with an air of finality. “The details will need to be gone over before tomorrow, but as such, Zuko is the Esteemed Prince, son of Crown Prince Iroh.” 

Zuko lifted his head to look at his grandfather. 

“Does this mean I have to call Uncle Iroh Dad?”

Iroh lets out a startled laugh. 

“Only if you want to, child.” 

Zuko concentrates very hard for a second before shrugging. 

“I don’t know.” He yawns. “It sounds weird.” 

“You can still call me Uncle if you wish. You can also change your mind later. Whatever you want, Zuko.” Iroh assures the boy. 

Azulon stands, offering a hand to assist his son in doing the same with Zuko still securely in his hold. 

“I believe the time has come to adjourn.’ Azulon addressed his son lightly. “I will be summoning Prince Ozai to the throne room tonight, so I suggest keeping the young prince close to you, in a safe location.” 

“I’ll take him to my chambers.” Iroh agrees. Then, to Zuko, “Would you like to accompany me for a nice nap, nephew?” 

Zuko frowned. “It’s barely afternoon now.” 

“I can think of no better time to curl up and rest my eyes.” Iroh countered sagely, giving his father a nod and beginning to make his way towards the door. 

“Goodbye, my son, farewell, Prince Zuko.” 

Zuko paused and bit his lip. 

“G-goodbye, Grandfather.”

His grandson’s words were quiet enough that Azulon nearly missed them as Iroh carried Zuko out of his study, but they were enough to make him grin softly while he rang for Maaya to bring in his paperwork for the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, baby Zuko is precious and i would die for him, i just wanted to get that out of the way before i do my usual thing before i beg for comments and critics like usual... 
> 
> am i doing okay on being consistant with my characters? I'm trying to be better about that, way back when i could never do that right. 
> 
> What do y'all think of Maaya? i adore her omg, just you wait she's awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo, this is my first time writing a fanfic in over six years, but my mental health has been terrible lately so i decided picking up an old hobby might help.  
> this is also my first time posting in AO3 so its been an interesting expearience. 
> 
> please leave comments, i live off of those, and kudos too if u feel like it. 
> 
> love u all, peace out and drink water.


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